


Turn Me 'Round and Break My Chains

by Ink-and-scales-and-dragons-tales (SingleSingularity)



Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Original Work
Genre: Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:06:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23727283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingleSingularity/pseuds/Ink-and-scales-and-dragons-tales
Summary: Anger.What is anger? What logic does this fire, this ice within me follow?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Turn Me 'Round and Break My Chains

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of half character study, half poetry based on personal impressions of my girl Carol Danvers.  
> Comments and constructive thoughts welcome!

Anger.  
What is anger? What logic does this fire, this ice within me follow?  
Does it follow?  
It caves a hole in my chest  
A weight in my soul that demands I feed it, destroy that for which it's vengeance so desperately seeks,  
It reminds me of my power, what I could do, what I... should do.

Should I, though?  
Is this weak? Do I care?  
It feels like sandpaper, wool covering my eyes and ears, grating on my senses,  
My sensibilities, my sensibility.  
I know, I know, that I don't want to see the world burn.  
But I could do it, if I tried.  
Why would I try, though? What drives me to ponder the rage I feel?  
What am I even angry at?

I seethe as they watch me fall.  
They were right, they were right,  
God, I hate them, especially when they're right.  
I remember getting up though, proving them wrong time and time again.  
She appears in my thoughts, a memory of sharing tea and sparkling eyes.  
They did that to her, too.  
My frustration burns, glows, radiates from me like a beacon of pure rage.  
They should know what they did, how severe their crimes.  
But another part of me is tired.

Tired of fighting, tired of anger.  
Tired of being just barely contained.  
Somehow I feel this tiredness makes me strong.  
I want nothing more than to sit next to her and smile, share tea and relax.  
Not forgetting them, per se  
Just knowing that they are wrong, and that they don't matter any more than we do.  
It's comforting, really, how painfully insignificant we are, yet how we wield such ridiculous power.  
The ants have found a way to rule the universe.


End file.
